Crimper's Christmas Crookies
by bundysbaby
Summary: A reboot of the Elmer the Elf series. Santa sends his not-so-favorite elf to assist our favorite detective with a mystery at Crimper's Department Store.


The old man slid into the red pleather booth in the back of the hole-in-the-wall pizzeria in the busy city of White Plains, New York. It was one of those places beloved by the neighborhood, but almost unknown outside of a few miles. The name, Spezzi's Ristorante and Pizzeria, was almost longer than the storefront.

He ordered a Coke, fiddling with the silver napkin holder, and told the waitress he was waiting for someone. She wondered if he was meeting another woman – she saw the wedding ring on his finger. Men didn't usually meet their _spouses_ in a place like this.

As she was bringing his beverage to the table, she rolled her eyes and patted herself on the back. Yup. She was correct. A young blonde chippie was sliding into the booth across from the geezer.

 _Man, he must really be rich_ was her cynical thought. Even with a winter jacket on, it was obvious that the blonde was, um, endowed. She was pretty, too, with those flyaway blonde curls framing a heart-shaped face. Big, intensely blue eyes dominated that face; the woman sliding into the booth would have been surprised at the envy and interest she was engendering.

Trixie Belden wondered again at why she was meeting Earl Crimper, Senior, in this out-of-the-way pizza place in White Plains. He somehow had a note planted in her locker in school, asking her to meet him here two days hence, cautioning her not to tell anyone at all about their rendezvous.

And, of course, her overdeveloped sense of curiosity and what her brother Mart called The M Word - _mystery_ – was piqued. Lucky it was the holiday season, and she could reasonably borrow Moms' car without a whole lot of explanation.

"I received your note," she told Grandpa Crimper, sitting back and waiting. In years past she might have charged in with a million questions, but she wasn't thirteen any longer. In a few short months, Trixie would be graduating high school; after that, it was on to college.

 _And Jim Frayne still hasn't asked me on a date_. Trixie feared she was doomed to be a best female friend forever.

"Thanks for coming. Something to eat? They have a great pepperoni pie here." He was nervous. He, Earl Crimper, who took the little general emporium his folks started and built it into a… a… well, not quite a kingdom, but the largest independent department store in Westchester County! Shoppers may be paying a bit more than at the local, half-empty mall, but at least they receive personal service at his store.

"Sure. Pepperoni is fine." Although she was almost exploding with curiosity, she didn't give in to it. Nope. He wanted her here, outside of Sleepyside, and he could tell her what he wanted in his own time.

Grandpa Crimper gave the order to the smirking waitress, pushed himself against the padded back of the booth. "You're probably wondering why I wanted to meet you here," he began. He was nervous! Nervous of this slip of a gal with her All-American beauty and that detective's mind that functioned better than the most elaborate trap.

"It had crossed my mind," Trixie replied dryly.

Grandpa sighed and ran his long fingers through his white hair. "Somebody is trying to drive Crimper's out of business!"

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Nicholas Claus watched this strange scene play out from the comfortable environs of Command Central in his home at the North Pole. Man, he was so enthralled with this place. No more huge books, filled with columns and columns of names of naughty or nice children; no more laborious handwritten entries that he had a hard time deciphering.

Elves have _terrible_ penmanship.

Martha Claus came bustling in, carrying a silver tray with a sprig of holly and a cup of steaming hot chocolate. She glanced at the huge screen as she was setting it down with great care on the console. Wouldn't do to short out Nick's new toy with sticky cocoa.

"Hmm, should I be jealous?" she teased. "You spend a lot of time watching that little blonde, Nick. Isn't she past the age of being naughty or nice?"

He began to bluster, noted the sparkle in her hazel eyes, and grinned. "No-one's _ever_ past the age of being naughty or nice. There's just something about her, and Jim Frayne, too. You think they would have gotten together by now," he fretted.

"A wise old songwriter once wrote you can't hurry love, you just have to wait."

"I guess so. I wonder what is going on with Crimper's Department Store. Here, Marty, let's see why Grandpa Crimper is having a clandestine meeting with my next-favorite girl."

They both turned back to the huge screen that filled one wall as Nick made the pixels larger. He could review everyone else later.

This was much more interesting than watching some kid have a meltdown because his parents couldn't afford an iPad.

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Trixie knew the elderly man sitting across from her could be, well, eccentric was a nice way of stating it. He was also prone to melodramatic outbursts, so she took his pronouncement with a grain of salt. "What do you mean, Mr. Crimper?" When the mall opened about ten years ago, it was widely expected they would put Main Street, Sleepyside, out of business.

And, for a few years, it looked as if they may succeed. However, the pendulum swung back to shopping with friends and family in stores with personal service and clerks who greeted you by name. Most of the stores in town, including Crimper's, had a presence on the internet, which helped sales.

Besides, being listed as a historic place and one of the few independents brought out-of-towners with their deep pockets to their little village and the venerable old store.

"Look, Trixie, I know that people think I'm just an eccentric old man. I do not deny I have my little quirks." His shrewd, bright blue eyes held hidden secrets and sparkled. Grandpa leaned on his elbows and whispered, none too quietly. "Helps with the image, you know."

Trixie was startled into a giggle and relaxed. "Why do you think someone is trying to drive Crimper's out of business?"

Earl Crimper sat back. At least she was hearing him out. "It all started a few days ago, Black Friday, to be exact. Someone is looking for something in my store. Items are being moved around; my managers are reporting that they think their offices have been disturbed. It's a mystery."

Ah. There it was. The one word that made Trixie's brilliant mind go into overdrive. "A mystery," she repeated. "Why not go to the police? Why me?"

"Ah, Molinson's an idiot," Grandpa Crimper frowned. "The Sleepyside Police are good at giving out tickets and arresting shoplifters or drunks, but everyone in town knows _you're_ the one to solve the hard stuff."

"Thanks for the compliment, but…"

"No buts, Trixie. It's trust. I really need your help."

"What do you think they're trying to find, Mr. Crimper?"

"Grandpa. Call me Grandpa. This started right after I hired Santa and this year's batch of Crimper's Christmas Elves." The Christmas Elves wandered the store, stopping to greet shoppers and children, helping them to find items and generally spreading goodwill throughout a harried holiday season. "I can't seem to catch them in the act. The security cameras don't pick up anything. And there are only three things that are priceless and irreplaceable in Crimper's."

"And they are?"

"Crimper's reputation. And our recipes for Crimper's Chocolate Chip Cookies and Crimper's Blueberry Blast Muffins. I think they're after the recipes and don't care if they ruin our reputation in the meantime."

"Oh, gleeps!" Trixie placed a hand over her mouth. "But those recipes have helped make the store famous!" They did, too. Most people who tasted the cookies pooh-poohed at any other chocolate chip cookie.

It was true. The chocolate chip cookies were to die for. Moist, delicious, sky high, and full of divine chocolate chips, they came in both semi-sweet and milk chocolate. Crimper's shipped them all over the world.

The blueberry muffins were not quite as celebrated, but still divine. The tops shone with sparkly sugar; the muffin domes had just the right amount of crunchy goodness, leading straight down into the soft cake. Juicy blueberries burst in one's mouth.

Celebrities rhapsodized about them; they were featured on the cooking channels. People tried to replicate the recipes but could not find that secret ingredient that made them so deliciously decadent. As a result, during downturns in the economy, Crimper's still prospered. Not many people knew of the huge, from scratch bakery that was built into the rear of the store where the confections were still produced by certain family members.

"Gleeps is right. I think all the messing about with the stock on the floor and the obvious disarray in the offices is just a red herring. Someone is after the recipes."

"How do you think I can help where the police cannot?"

"Trixie, I want you to become a Crimper's Christmas Elf."

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"Oh, ho, ho, ho." Nick's distinctive, booming laugh filled the room. "Our Trixie, a Christmas Elf. Ho, ho, ho."

"And what's so funny about that? She's a pretty girl."

"Jim Frayne will have a _heart attack_ when he sees her in that costume."

"Serves him right," Martha sniffed.

"I think our girl will need some assistance," Nick mused. "And I have just the elf to do it!"

"Nick, you aren't thinking of…"

He grinned at Martha, pressed a button and bellowed "ELLL-MER!"

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"You're a little bit late, sweetie." Moms wasn't really worried, but with Trixie, there was always the chance that she would stumble across an international terrorist cell while walking to the library.

"I got a job, Moms! Just seasonal, at Crimper's. It will give me a little extra money for presents, an employee discount, and I might even add to my pathetic bank account."

Moms' radar went off, and she searched Trixie's face. "You never said you were applying for a job, Trixie. I hope it doesn't interfere with your homework." Guileless blue eyes gazed back at her.

"Well, you know, I wasn't sure I was going to get it. I didn't want to make a big deal of it just in case everything fell through."

"How are you going to get there and back, honey? You know I have a lot to do this time of the year."

"I texted Brian and asked if I could use his car, Moms. He and Jim won't be home until around the twenty-third. One of their professors is a real Grinch and decided to schedule his final exam on that afternoon. After that, I figured I could negotiate with you and Dad, depending on my hours."

"All right, Trixie. But I expect you to keep your grades up. Go wash up and get your father and Bobby. Dinner is almost finished."

Trixie groaned to herself. No way could she do justice to Moms' meal after eating a pepperoni pizza with Grandpa Crimper (who confided he was sure he would suffer from dyspepsia all night).

"Just what are you going to do at Crimper's?" Helen Belden asked. She just hoped Trixie wouldn't be assigned to the cosmetics department. That would be a disaster.

Her energetic and bubbly daughter was already half-way up the stairs. "An elf, Moms. I'm going to be a Crimper's Christmas Elf."

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Elmer Elf heard Santa's voice roaring his name. The not-so-jolly fat man could probably be heard all over the North Pole without the intercom system. Elmer grabbed his head with his hands, pressing against his temples. A headache was already starting to manifest itself.

Elias Elf rolled his lime-green eyes. "It's your own fault, you know. We all know that Mrs. Claus is a hottie, but you didn't have to go into detail where Santa could hear you." Even though Elmer was the best Elf Supervisor in the whole of the North Pole, he was on Santa's list.

And it _wasn't_ the naughty or nice lists.

"I know, I know," Elmer moaned, turning a bright green. "In my defense, Ernie was making the Tequila Canes rather strong. And how was I to know Santa was standing right behind me?" Christmastime at the N.P. was just the tiniest bit stressful. Production was ramped up to the highest levels, Martha Claus was busy baking the special Reindeer Cookies and trying to keep the elves supplied with food. Santa was keeping tabs on all the children in the world, as well as monitoring what the hot toy was for the year.

To top it all off, the reindeer were usually grumpy and the whole holiday season coincided with Elf Mating Season. Elmer was constantly kicking enraptured elf couples out of closets, bathrooms, and stairwells.

On Christmas Day, the whole North Pole shut down for a raucous, rowdy party. The elves were supplied with all the baked goodies they could eat, be washed down with Patrón and crushed candy canes. Disgusting to most lovers of tequila, but delicious to the elf community. After all, their normal diet consisted of enough sweet desserts to cause a normal person to go into sugar shock after gaining three hundred and fifty pounds.

Elmer had been a little tipsy and went on and on about Martha's great legs and hourglass figure, although not in those polite terms. He failed to pick up on the other elves signaling that Santa was standing right behind him.

Yup. Elmer certainly put his pointy, bell-clad foot in his big mouth that day.

Ever since then, Santa only tolerated him. Elmer did apologize profusely, both to Mrs. Claus and Santa, but still. Santa certainly knew how to keep a grudge going.

Elmer pushed himself up and stepped onto the St. Nick Local Elf Deliverer or the SLED for short. The intricate moving walkway allowed the elves to get from one side of the N.P. to the other in a short amount of time, much shorter than if they tried to walk it.

Elmer was delivered right outside Command Central. He straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, stood up as tall as an elf could, and pressed on the intercom.

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Jim Frayne was daydreaming on the couch in his student apartment. ESPN was playing in the background, and his best friend Brian was texting someone. He heard none of this, however, being involved in an intricate fantasy all about his special girl.

Trixie was in the clubhouse, dressed in a sexy French maid costume. (Why she would be in the clubhouse dressed that way, Jim had no idea, but hey, this was his fantasy.) He just happened by, locked the door, and…

"Trixie just texted me," Brian said aloud.

Immediately, visions of a half-naked Trixie twining herself around him vanished to be replaced by an immediate increase in the acid in Jim's gut. He was wide awake in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. She was asking my permission to use my car. She got a job at Crimper's as a seasonal employee."

"She never said anything when we were home for Thanksgiving." In fact, the more the tall, handsome redhead thought about it, Trixie didn't say much at all.

"I don't think she tells us _everything_ going on in her life, Jim," Brian said sarcastically. He sat back on the couch and took a long swig of Red Bull. "When do you plan on asking her out? Or are you gonna string this fond friend thing on forever?"

Jim stared at Brian in shock. "I never said anything…"

"You didn't have to, Jim. I'm not blind you know, and neither are any of the Bob-Whites. Except for Trixie. She has on the same blinders you have."

Jim swept a large, freckled hand through his red hair. It was a little long, because he hadn't had time to get to the barber's, and that quick brush of fingers left a large cowlick.

"It's not that easy, Brian," Jim argued as he stood and began pacing, finally leaning against the doorjamb.

"What? All you do is walk up to her and say, hey, Trix, wanna go to the movies? Seven little words."

"You dad had words with me after I gave her that bracelet. You know, the one with my name on it after the Happy Valley fiasco."

"Oh, the trip where you flirted with a gorgeous, tall, athletic blonde, and then told my short, curly-haired sister she needed to fix her lipstick?"

"Yeah, that one. And I didn't flirt, and neither did Dot. She was just being friendly to an out-of-towner."

Brian hooted with laughter, "Man, you really do have blinders on. Dot Murray would've gone outside with you to the nearest car and baptized the back seat." Brian had to ask. "What did Dad talk to you about?"

Jim shoved his restless hands in his pocket. "Well, maybe _I_ didn't want to go with _her_ ," Jim snarked back. He couldn't tell Brian if Trixie was making that blatant play now, he'd gladly go with her. Anywhere. "Your dad said a lot about how Trixie and I were too young be exclusive. That we needed to grow up experience the world. About how we'd regret hooking up so young when we were forty and wondering what we missed."

"it's reasonable. Trixie was only fourteen, and you were only sixteen."

"Yeah, well, he basically told me Trixie couldn't date until she was like 30."

"Jim, let me clue you in. Your dad had the same talk with me about Honey. I did date a few other girls. Nobody can hold a candle to your sister, though. The difference here is that I had the balls to ask your sister out."

"You and Honey don't have the same history as Trixie and me." Jim was a firm believer in that statement. Brian hadn't been a poor, starving orphan who was saved by a petite, curly-headed blonde. After the horrific events at Happy Valley had dissipated, Jim found himself wanting to hang on to Trixie's friendship no matter what.

They moved into the friend zone, and now he was stuck there.

"Let me give you a piece of wisdom. My sister is a brilliant detective, a pretty girl, and fun to be with. If you don't make a move soon, well Peter Kimball recently asked me if she was dating anyone." Brian tipped his can of Red Bull to Jim and retired to his room, leaving his roommate with a lot to think about.

 _Peter Kimball?_

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The door to Command Central whooshed open like that old Star Trek television series. Elmer stepped inside, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "You needed me, Santa? Oh, hello, Mrs. Claus." Elmer couldn't prevent the rush of guilty green blood to his face.

"Hello, Elmer. I'll leave you two gentlemen to discuss business." She swooped out of the room, giggling to herself. She had forgiven Elmer a long time ago, but Nick was still on his high horse… or reindeer.

"How is production going?" Santa queried.

"Hatchimals and Fingerlings for the littler kids and Nintendo Switch and X-Box One for the older crowd." Elmer rattled off the numbers for each. We're okay on all of them, but I suspect once the _Star Wars_ movie opens, we'll have a run on themed merchandise."

"I agree, let's ramp up the production on those. I have another job for you, Elmer. I need you to go to New York, a little town called Sleepyside, and assist in an investigation there."

"But, Santa! It's our busiest time of year. I can't just…"

Santa held a plump finger to the side of his nose and Elmer went silent. "Ernie can handle your job for now. I'll also promote Elise, too. She deserves it."

"What do you need me to do in New York?" Elmer was resigned to the fact that he was being eased out of his job. He'd be lucky if he found a job cleaning the reindeer caves when he returned.

"I need you to help a woman. Trixie Belden. I've arranged for you to be an undercover elf at Crimper's Department Store."

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Trixie had her doubts as about agreeing to be one of Crimper's Christmas Elves. The costume she was given was rather, um, well, it wasn't really revealing, but it did show a bit more of her cleavage than she was used to showing.

The dress was a pullover style with a green velvet jacket over a red bustier and short skirt. The jacket portion opened to reveal the sexy bustier and was edged in candy-stripe binding. The short, puffy sleeves had a jagged hem, and the jacket's same hem had pompoms at the tips. The shiny red skirt was edged in white faux fur, and her waist was cinched in with a wide black belt and gold buckle.

A green Santa hat graced her curls, fingerless green velvet gloves allowed freedom of movement. The stockings were thigh high, red and white striped with a piquant red bow to each side. The only saving grace was the fact the shoes were sneakers modified to look as if they were pointy elf shoes and not stilettos.

Trixie was assigned as Santa's helper. Crimper's Santa wasn't hidden away in a far corner of the store. He was on a special stage constructed right in the middle of the floor. A red carpet led up the ramp to his throne; beautifully decorated Christmas trees marched down the steps at his side. From that vantage point, Trixie had a view of almost the entire floor. The kids called it Santa's Mountain.

When Santa wasn't seeing children, Trixie was going to mingle with the crowds, trying to see what she could discover. Grandpa Crimper made it clear he was still in charge of hiring and firing, no matter what Earl Junior thought. The old man wasn't in his dotage yet!

Tomorrow was her first day, Trixie took a deep breath and climbed into bed, hoping her friends and family would not decide to make a trip to the store for gifts. Especially Jim. She couldn't imagine what he would think, seeing her wearing a sexy elf outfit in public. He'd probably laugh his brains out.

She'd have a lot of 'splainin' to do!

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 _Something is wrong._ The innate sense of danger went off big time, causing Trixie to sit up straight in bed. She glanced around her room, cozy and familiar. There were her dresser and mirror; the closet; her hamper; the other twin bed with an elf sitting on it; and an untidy pile of forensic books on her window seat…

Wait. _What?_

Surely, she was dreaming. A hand shot out, turning on her light. Nope. There he was, sitting on the bed, looking as if he had every right to do so. Trixie surveyed him, taking in everything about him. Just in case he was psychotic, she didn't scream. Her training came in handy.

"Excuse me, but who are you and why are you in my bedroom?"

The elf gave out a great gust of a sigh. Trixie couldn't believe that small body held so much air. "I'm Elmer Elf. Santa sent me to assist you in your investigation at Crimper's."

"Um, what?"

Elmer rolled his lime-green eyes so hard, if they hadn't been attached, they would have rolled right down Glen Road. "S-a-n-t-a… sent…me…to…help…you." He enunciated each word slow and precise.

 _This kid would never get anywhere in this investigation if she couldn't understand plain English_. No wonder Santa sent his best!

Trixie didn't say anything for a long moment, considering what Elmer just said. Only she and Grandpa Crimper knew the real reason he hired her. She examined the picture in her head of the pizza place in White Plains. No-one was sitting near them, and there were no errant elves or make-believe Santas nearby.

"I'm not stupid, you know. If Santa really did send you, then what did I ask for, for Christmas last year? Not what I told everyone I wanted. What I asked Santa for, deep in my heart."

Elmer smirked. Santa might hold a grudge, but he sure knew his kids! He told Elmer Trixie would have a trick question. "That's easy. Jim Frayne. You wanted Jim Frayne." Elmer wasn't sure what a Jim Frayne was, but that's what she asked Santa for!

Trixie's jaw just about hit the ground. Nobody knew this. Not Honey, not her Moms, especially not Jim. "Okay. Okay," she blushed. "But why are you here? In my room?"

"Well, I gotta stay somewhere," he said nastily. "I had to listen to Donner complaining all the way down about flying me here right before Christmas. You have no idea how crabby reindeer can get!"

"You can't stay here," Trixie blustered. "Not in my room. It's… it's not proper."

"Where else can I go? This isn't exactly my cup of candy cane punch either, toots. It's way too hot in here."

"Candy cane punch?" Trixie was distracted by the awfulness of it all. "Ewwww."

"Hey, don't knock it if you haven't tried it. Dee-lishous."

The girl in the other bed shuddered. "The sweetness would make me want to hork."

"Well, that's what you think. All elves eat are desserts and sweets, you know. Cookies, cakes, candy, yum! Why, just this morning I had Hershey Kiss tea with candy corn in a bowl of marshmallow fluff."

"My brother Brian is away at school. He's letting me use his car. You can sleep in the barn in the backseat. I can sneak you out some of Moms' cookies and candy. She makes tons of the stuff for the holidays."

"Deal."

"Now, why would Santa send help?"

"All of you think he's just a jolly, red-suited fat man, but boy, does he have a temper. He's angry that someone is using the North Pole as an excuse to do nefarious deeds, in his words. And we, Trixie, are just the team to nab those bas… bad guys!"

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Honey Wheeler met Trixie in the cafeteria. "I've got to talk to you." Trixie hissed as they waited in line.

"Is this about your mysterious errand in White Plains yesterday?" Honey whispered back. Nothing was appetizing today, so the two settled for salad and bottled water.

"Yes, let's sit over there," Trixie nodded her head since her hands were full. "Lucky that Diana has to help with the scenery today. She'd tell Mart and he would tell Dan, and oh, gleeps!"

SJSHS Choral Group continued a tradition of presenting a night of holiday songs for the public. Any money they made went towards travel expenses as they competed against other schools in the region. It was a lovely night and very popular in town.

They chose a smaller, out of the way table where they could have some private conversation. As they sat, Honey arched her brow. "Better start now before we are joined by someone."

"It was Grandpa Crimper. He asked me to do some undercover work at the store. He thinks someone is trying to steal the chocolate chip and blueberry muffin recipes. You're looking at the newest Crimper's Christmas Elf."

"Trix, you know he has a reputation for being eccentric…"

"He was perfectly logical yesterday, Honey. I figured I'd snoop around a bit and get paid for it for once. He didn't want to bring in the police because he thinks Molinson is an idiot, in his words."

"You do realize you're going to be swanning around in a skimpy costume," Honey advised her. Although that might not be such a bad thing. Jim would have a conniption.

"That's the only downside to this, but hey, if we're going to be detectives someday, we might have to disguise ourselves in way worse than that. That's why we came in Brian's car today. The outfit is in the trunk, and I will change at Crimper's. And I need your help." And it was a good thing Honey didn't remark on the strange, blanket-covered lump in the back seat.

"My help? Why?"

"We're a _team_ , that's why." Trixie reached across the table, taking one of Honey's hands. "We'll always be a team. I need you to help look around the store for any elves that seem, I don't know, hinky. Grandpa Crimper thinks the perps are either the elves or Santa. Or maybe they're a team," Trixie mused.

Honey giggled. "Bad Santa? Okay, you know how much I love to shop. I can recruit Diana, too. I won't tell her what we're doing, but it might be fun." Hmm, I wonder what my brother will think of his special girl running around as a sexy elf in public. This might be more fun than Trixie thinks.

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Trixie took a not-too-deep breath and took her first steps into the madness that was Crimper's Department Store at the holidays. She felt rather silly in the abbreviated costume and rather self-conscious. She wasn't tall and graceful as Honey and Diana – or even Dot Murray was.

She failed to see that her petite stature and curvy figure made her the perfect elf. Her complete lack of vanity translated into a sexy, All-American blonde beauty. Her sparkling blue eyes, wide smile, and even those barely visible freckle sprinkled on the bridge of her nose invited even jaded shoppers to smile back and children to excitedly point out Santa's elf!

"Haven't seen you here before, girlie," one of the other elves said to her, openly leering at her as she made her way to Santa's throne.

"New hire. And you are?"

"Just what it says on my nametag. Jingle Bill."

"Well, Jingle Bill, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I'm going to relieve the elf at Santa's."

"Oh, Sleighbell Sandy. Tell her I need to see her. Now."

"Sure." Trixie watched as the elf walked off into the crowd. Why would he need to see Sleighbell Sandy straightaway? And wasn't he awfully tall and gruff to be an elf? Where was Crimper's freaking security staff?

A short while later, Honey arrived to reconnoiter. The first thing she did was scope out Trixie and giggle. She whipped out her iPhone and created an artistic shot of her best friend.

Trixie was smiling at a little boy, who was looking up in awe at her. She was slightly bent, a sweet smile on her face, handing the child a candy cane. The picture was unintentionally sexy, and the two dads leering at her luscious, um, background only added a piquant touch.

A few shoppers turned as they heard the unflappable Madeline Grace Wheeler giggle. Yep, it only took a second to send the photo to her brother. She just wished she could be there to see his face.

It was going to be priceless.

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Jim was walking to class when his cell phone let out its crystal, bell-like tone alerting him he had a message. He grinned as he fished it out of a pocket. _My generation's equivalent to You Got Mail_.

The first was a short video from his sister, Honey. She was grinning, and there was an amused and slightly evil twist to it. Her eyes were dancing with delight. "Next up, dear brother, a picture of the famous Tinseled Trixie in her new position at Crimper's. Enjoy."

 _Now, what did Honey mean by that?_ Flashed through his mind before the photo of Trixie filled his screen.

And he really, really needed to sit down.

She was a fu… freaking Crimper's Christmas Elf. The similarities between her abbreviated elf costume and his French maid fantasy didn't escape him. God, no. It only fueled his desire to an almost unbearable level. She was everything he imagined and so much more.

Jim stood there, in the middle of the walkway, just gaping at the picture. His special girl was up on Santa's mountain, as the kids called it, handing a candy cane to an enraptured little boy. Her face was soft, and love shone out of those magnificent eyes. She was slightly bent at the waist, which gave Jim a lovely view of her assets, which, to him, seemed barely covered by the bustier. Her shapely legs were covered up to mid-thigh by candy-striped stockings, and he just wanted to rip them off.

With his teeth.

And he did not appreciate the two young dads ogling her behind. No, not at all. Jim had to restrain himself from charging right down there to Sleepyside, barging into Crimper's, and covering her up with his biggest, thickest, winter coat.

"Who's the sexy elf?" Patrick Muldown stopped to peek at Jim's phone, at which the tall redhead was staring at, with a most peculiar expression. One might almost say, dumbfounded.

Jim nearly dropped the item, recovered, shut it down. "My, uh, girlfriend. Back home."

Patrick whistled. "No wonder you never wanted to go out with anyone here. Man, she has nice, uh, assets." He was going to say something much cruder, but the fiery look in Jim Frayne's deep green eyes quelled that. He wouldn't like to anger Jim. No way. With his broad shoulders, muscular arms and large hands, Frayne could tear him apart without breaking a sweat.

That was one thing in favor of living up there in the wilds.

The image of Trixie in her elf costume was burned into his brain. Jim was fidgety during class and unable to keep his attention on the lesson. Instead, he was partly angry with his special girl, showing off her, um, assets like that. Right in public! Even though his brain logically informed his heart and other significant parts of him that the outfit didn't show as much as a bathing suit or bikini revealed.

The other part of him, and that part seemed to be winning, wanted to rush back to his apartment, lock his bedroom door and lick the screen of his phone.

 _Damn._

 _Peter Kimball?_

88888888

Santa Claus and Tinseled Trixie were taking a much-needed break. It wasn't easy, sitting there on a throne in a hot, padded suit, fake full beard, and listen to the entitled little brats ask for thousand-dollar phones. The gig paid well, and now he could try to look down the front of Trixie's dress.

Yeah, that was a plus.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your real name?"

The man was openly leering at her and Trix was not only suspicious but uncomfortable. "Trixie."

"Sounds like a two-dollar hooker. I'm John Smith."

 _Suurrre you are._

"The agency didn't tell me they were sending in another elf, and one as nicely put together as you."

Trixie just shrugged her slender shoulders. She sipped her complimentary strawberry soda and watched as Santa tipped a generous amount of clear liquid into his Coke. The flask was hidden in all the padding.

"Vodka. Want a snort?" he whispered. "Help loosen ya up a bit."

"No, thanks."

"This is a busy joint for being a store in some crappy little town."

"Crimper's is pretty famous. The architecture of the store and the fact that it's an independent coupled with the personal service make it a destination. They may not have a parade, but they are doing well."

"You know what I think, Trixie? I think it's those cookies and muffins. That's what I think. They're a gold mine."

"Maybe." She didn't want to seem too eager.

"Listen, if somebody got ahold of those recipes, they'd be set for life. Sell 'em to the highest bidder. Retail is a cutthroat business, ya know. In fact, a person could sell 'em a bunch a times. And retire to Argentina."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Why not?" Smith downed the rest of his drink and belched.

"Right now, it's a unique recipe that people covet. If everyone were making the same recipe, it would just be another muffin or cookie. Nothing special and no-one will pay for something everyone else does. It's not economically sound."

"All you'd need is a couple of eager buyers. Lots of stores are in real trouble today."

"Precisely. They're not going to have the disposable funds you are talking about to buy a couple of recipes that may or may not be authentic." She shrugged again. "If you give them the recipe to authenticate, then they'll have it without payment. I can't see the CEO of a struggling chain paying for something they haven't tried. And if they stiff the seller, it's not like they could go to the police."

John Smith seemed struck by her argument. "Could be, could be," he muttered. "I'm gonna use the facilities. Meet you back at Santa's mountain." Before he left, he turned to her. "But, I still say you're wrong."

Trixie sipped the rest of her soda, disposed of the trash, and walked back into the crowds. She had a lot to think about.

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"Tell my son there is such a thing as Santa Claus," the woman demanded. The eight-year-old boy, stuffed into a hot snowsuit and tired of being dragged around the store was just about to have a meltdown. His mother thought that Elmer Elf looked pretty darn realistic, better than all the other Crimper's Christmas Elves she encountered.

Elmer eyed the kid, his lime-green eyes taking in the situation in a moment. "I work for Santa, so I should know. Of course, Santa exists. He lives at the North Pole with his wife Martha, all the reindeer, a bunch of elves and polar bears."

"My friends say there is no such thing as Santa," the boy replied. "That it's all made up."

"Your friends are wrong. The N.P. is a magical place. It's full of delicious desserts to eat all the time instead of vegetables. All the trees are full of lights and tinsel, and the reindeer are grumpy old things. Santa has a big room he calls Command Central, and he watches all the naughty or nice kids on a huge television that takes up one whole wall. Naughty kids get placed on a list, but Santa watches them to see if they apologize. It's all computerized now."

"What happens if they apologize?"

A crowd had gathered around the little elf, listening to his charming story.

Elmer was in his glory.

"Santa puts them right back on the nice list. You see, forgiveness is very important." _Unless you made some crude comments about Martha Claus._

"How do the reindeers fly?" another little kid asked.

"They're a special breed, and they only exist at the North Pole. At this time of year, Mrs. Claus bakes them special cookies. One ingredient changes every year by Christmas Magic. The cookies help them get Santa and his sleigh full of toys off the ground. It's pretty heavy, you know, even for the team."

Jingle Bill pushed through the crowd and looked at the nametag of the elf surrounded by shoppers. "Uh, sorry folks, Elmer has to come with me."

 _Uh-oh._

8888888

It wasn't unusual to see Honey Wheeler browsing the aisles of Crimper's. She was usually accompanied by her friends or mother, but she also shopped alone. Friends and acquaintances smiled or tried to stop her to chat. In her tactful way, she extricated herself from these distractions as she circulated, watching the costumed elves. Even in a crowded store, it wasn't a difficult feat.

Most of the elves appeared to perform their job. They handed out candy canes to the children with the parent's permission; pointed out departments; even made gift suggestions.

A few of them were just not into their jobs at all. They were polite to the customers but spent more time wandering near the employee only exits to the parts of the store that were off-limits to shoppers. It begged the question, why? Their job was to assist customers; if they needed to ascertain whether there was more stock in the back, they were supposed to ask regular personnel.

There was one door which she thought they should be especially interested. It was always kept locked, and it was the door that led to the bakery that churned out thousands of cookies and hundreds of muffins. The only time that door opened was when one of the members of the family were bringing out skids of freshly baked goods. Most of the time, they never even made it to the display, and the opening of the door was always accompanied by the most delicious scent.

Maybe Grandpa Crimper was correct. Someone was after their proprietary recipes and was using the cover of Santa and his elves.

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Trixie was exhausted by the end of her shift. It had been a long, long day and she needed to compare notes with Elmer and Honey. It was just pure luck that the store was so crowded in the few days before Christmas that no one noticed Elmer wasn't employed there. She peeled off her costume in the ladies' locker room, thanking heaven she was getting out of the uncomfortable thing.

Elmer was skulking near her car – or rather, Brian's car – when she finally exited the building. Crimper's took the safety of their employees very seriously; they had a special employee parking area with a guard. Trixie glanced about anyway, more from habit than fear. John Smith had made her feel especially vulnerable. When would men realize that women did not care to be ogled as if they were objects made for a man's delectation?

"About time you got here, Trixie." Elmer was tired, irritable, and very, very hungry. "I'm starving."

"I'll bring you out a big plate of cookies and some of Moms' cheesecake as soon as we get home if no one is around. Did you find out anything?"

"Did I?" Elmer climbed into the front passenger seat. It was way more dignified than hiding under a darn blanket. "I did, almost at the cost of my life!"

Trixie almost laughed out loud. One thing she learned in the few conversations she had with the elf was that he had a tendency to confabulation. He was also sensitive, and his feelings were hurt with ease. "So, don't keep me waiting. What happened?"

"Did you meet that fake elf, Jingle Bill? I swear, he's going to give us elves a bad name."

"As a matter of fact, I did meet him. I think he was kind of suspicious of me."

"He's up to no good, I tell you, Trixie. I was telling a story to some kids and their parents. He and that female fake elf, Sleighbell Sandy, pulled me away and took me to the locker room. They wanted to know when the agency sent me and warned me that I wasn't supposed to be making a spectacle of myself so that people would remember what I look like."

"That's the second time I heard an agency mentioned. What did you say?"

"I told them that I was just sent today because Crimper's decided they needed more help. I told him the agency just told me to report here but didn't brief me on anything."

"Good thinking. The guy playing Santa Claus told me his name was John Smith. He was kind of inappropriate with me, but when I wasn't receptive, he didn't pursue it. We did have break together, and all he could talk about was the recipes for the cookies and muffins. About how rich a person could get if they could get their hands on the recipes and sell them to the highest bidder."

"What did you say? Is this our guy? Santa is going to be so angry."

"He is a suspect. We don't want to rush to judgment. I pointed out to him that his thinking was illogical. He also was adding alcohol to his soda. I don't think he really likes kids."

"It's just a job to them. They don't realize what it is, being an elf. It's difficult. Everybody thinks it's all fun and games and singing silly elf songs."

The warm light of Crabapple Farm was a welcome sight. "Okay, Elmer, we're home. I'm going to park the car in the garage. Get underneath the blanket and don't come out until I tell you to."

Trixie entered the house through the back door, pausing to hang her coat up in the mudroom. Moms left a light burning in the kitchen and a note on the table. Dinner was waiting in the refrigerator; all that had to be done was to be heated up in the microwave." Trixie quickly made a huge plate of goodies for Elmer and brought them to the barn. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Moms was waiting for her.

"Forget something out in the barn, Trixie?"

"I thought I did, Moms." She busied herself placing the plate into the microwave.

"How was your first day of work?"

"It was wonderful, Moms. The kids are just so cute. I wasn't too excited about having to walk around the store in the elf costume, but most people were really nice."

"Nobody bothered you, did they?" Helen Belden was concerned about her daughter wearing the Christmas elf costume. Trixie didn't see herself as attractive or sexy, but that's exactly what she was.

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

A half-hour later, Trixie was sitting on her window seat, staring up at the twinkling lights of Manor House. She was startled by the ringing of her cell phone. Glancing at the screen, she smiled. Honey.

"Hello, partner in crime. Or should I say, partner in _solving_ crimes? How are you, and did you discover anything during your covert surveillance?"

"Hi yourself, partner. You look awfully cute in that little elf suit."

Trixie grimaced. "I don't think so! I felt like an overstuffed sausage."

Honey knew when to drop the subject; instead, they concentrated on comparing notes. "It looks like Grandpa Crimper knew what he was talking about," Honey laughed. "Although, I must admit, the elves didn't hang much at the door to the bakery."

"I wonder what this mysterious agency they keep talking about is?"

"It's probably an employment agency, Trix. Daddy uses them all the time to fill temporary positions."

"I think I'm going to give a call to Grandpa Crimper. If it is an employment agency or temp agency, it may be rotten from the top down."

"What I'm wondering is where the normal security of the store is during all this? They have to see that some of the elves are not acting well, elvish."

"That's a thought. I'm going to ask him about that, too."

A few minutes later, Trixie dialed the special number Earl Crimper Senior had given her. He must've been waiting for her call as it was answered almost before the first ring faded.

"What did you find out today, Tinseled Trixie?" He had to cackle. He knew how much she hated bouncing around the store in that ridiculous elf costume.

Trixie briefed him on everything the trio had thus far discovered. "I knew it! The rapscallions!"

"Whoa, there, Grandpa. We don't have any proof yet, just suspicions. They keep talking about an agency."

"Holiday Heroes Temp Agency. We've used them for years. They supply various personnel for different holiday celebrations, personal and corporate. You know, like Uncle Sam for the 4th of July or superheroes for kids' birthday parties."

"Okay," Trixie yawned. "Let me do some research on them. Also, I find it strange your regular security isn't questioning anything."

"They're stretched thin with the season," Grandpa replied, his voice cracking. He didn't trust those rent-a-cops, not since a couple of them were busted forty years ago with a shopping bag full of Chanel No. 5.

"What about the surveillance cameras? Have they picked up anything?"

"Trixie, they're mostly centered on the merchandise, and not the office or stockroom doors. A few of them are just for show."

"Okay, Grandpa, I'll be in touch. We had a good start today."

"I have full faith in you, Trixie. Thank you."

As soon as she hung up, her phone rang again. Not bothering to glance at the screen, she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Trix." Jim's deep voice traversed the miles between his apartment and her home. "Brian told me you got a job and today was your first day. Congratulations! How did it go?"

Trixie nearly fumbled the phone and wished for the old days when she could twine her nervous fingers in the curly cord. "Oh, hi, Jim. It was interesting. Glad to make a little money to help with gifts and my college fund."

"What," Jim coughed then, his voice a little hoarse. "What are you doing there?"

Trixie flushed a deep red. "Ah, I'm a Crimper's Christmas Elf." Oh, gleeps.

For a moment, Jim couldn't speak. When he did, his voice was much deeper and full of something she didn't quite understand yet. "If I remember right, those costumes are rather abbreviated. You take care, Trix. Guys can be crude. Make sure you alert security if you get unwanted attention."

 _But, I am security_. She couldn't say that to him. "I don't expect any issues, Jim, I'm not Honey or Diana." _Or Dot Murray_.

Jim bit back a sigh. She just didn't believe he – and other men – could find her beautiful and sexy. "Just so, Trix, take care."

"Always my protector, aren't you?" she teased.

"Always." His voice wasn't teasing. It was deadly serious. "Always," he cleared his throat again. "Be home soon."

"I can't wait for us all to be back together again." I can't wait to see you. "Goodnight, Jim. Sweet dreams."

"Night, Trix. Sleep well."

Both severed the connection, not realizing that a million tiny strands of invisible wire were binding them together stronger than the toughest metal.

8888888888

A week later, and not much progress had been made. Honey was researching Holiday Heroes Temp Agency, only to find out that they were franchised. She was digging through the one that Crimper's used, following the money trail. She and Diana made several forays into the store, and although they caught the elves acting suspiciously, it was nothing that warranted an arrest.

Elmer couldn't get close to Jingle Bill or Sleighbell Sandy. Most of the other elves were nice if a bit flummoxed at the tall tales the little elf blathered on about. Talking polar bears, magic reindeer cookies, and tequila candy cane punch were all too much to believe.

Valentines' Day merchandise was beginning to creep into the seasonal displays as Christmas inventory was depleted. Cupids were replacing reindeer, elves, and snowmen; Christmas treed t-shirts were on sale while hearts and flowers took their place. The jewelry counter was getting ready for a big display of fine gold, platinum, and silver. Trixie was disappointed in herself, disappointed that she couldn't quite discern what Bad Santa, as she thought of John Smith, and the elves were up to.

December 23rd was in two days. That was the day, at least at Crimper's, that the store Santa closed shop and returned to the North Pole to get ready for Christmas. Whatever the small gang was planning, it had to happen between now and then.

And somehow, despite what Grandpa Crimper believed, she didn't think it had anything to do with secret recipes.

Trixie was in the employee locker room, getting ready to go home after her latest shift. She was reading the list of upcoming events in the store. After Christmas sales, then the white sales in January, MLK sales, all leading up to the next big gifting day. St Valentine's Day. _Meh. Not really a fan of that. If I had a boyfriend, I would hope that he would show me he loved me all year, and not just one day out of 365_.

As she read the events, her blue eyes grew saucer-shaped, and the synapses began firing. Her detective's brain pulled all the little pieces together and knit them into a diabolical plan. Crimper's published a list of events in The Sleepyside Sun and The Journal News in White Plains. Just then, Honey called with additional interesting and relevant information she was able to uncover.

Trixie smiled, told Honey where to meet her, and dialed a series of numbers.

Time to call in the troops and the best place to do that was at Sleepyside Police Headquarters, right there in town. The last number she called was that of Ed Lynch. He sounded a bit confused but agreed to meet her – them.

Trixie nearly skipped out of the store. Yeah. This was right.

88888888888

Wendall Molinson no longer rolled his eyes when Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler came into the police station. There was a time, not too long ago, when he considered them a royal pain in the butt. However, after solving as many crimes as they did and running circles around the police force, Molinson accepted that the two teenage girls had a gift for catching criminals.

He glanced around the conference room at the rather motley crew assembled there. Trixie and Honey; Ed Lynch, Grandpa Crimper, and some guy who had on a name tag that said Elmer and was wearing the most realistic elf getup Molinson ever saw. "So, Trixie, you have the floor," he nodded to the young woman who was just about to burst out of her skin.

"First a little background." Trixie explained how Grandpa Crimper contacted her, thinking that someone in his employ was trying to steal the secret recipes for the chocolate chip cookies and blueberry muffins that Crimper's was famous for. "I asked Honey to help keep an eye on the elves while I was busy being Santa's assistant. We suspected there might be some involvement of the employment agency, as it seems odd that coincidentally, all these people were in the same place at the same time."

"We've been doing some digging on Holiday Heroes Temp Agency. They are a franchise, with offices across the country. Ours is in White Plains. After a lot of research, I found out the agency recently changed hands. You'll never guess who bought it, behind the scenes."

"Who?" Molinson demanded, getting a bit impatient. Everyone knows Grandpa Crimper was a tad eccentric. He hoped this whole thing wasn't some wild goose chase.

"Henry Olyfant. He installed Fred Thompson, Snipe Thompson's brother and uncle to Bull, as the manager. And according to the reviews online since Olyfant took over, there have been nothing but complaints. Lots of allegations that employees are stealing from clients, but nothing is sticking." Honey was shocked when she reached the end of the money trail.

Molinson sat back. "My, my, my. I don't know whose palm Olyfant is greasing, but it must be someone connected. But, why would he want a cookie recipe? Even one as famous as Crimper's?"

"And I don't know why I'm here," Ed Lynch piped up, although it was fascinating to watch Trixie and Honey in action.

Trixie made the dramatic announcement. "Because the cookie thing is a red herring. They're after something much more valuable than that, Mr. Lynch. Tomorrow the display is going to be complete for the Valentines' Day holiday in the jewelry department. Every year, Crimper's displays a one-of-a-kind piece of jewelry, usually lent by a private collector. No, they're not after the cookie recipe. They're after The Scarlet Swan. And the Swan belongs to you, Mr. Lynch."

Trixie placed her hands palm down on the battered table. "Now, here's my plan…"

88888888

December 23rd dawned, gray and dreary and threatening snow. Brian and Jim hustled out of their apartment, pleased with the fact Professor Grinch rescheduled the exam for the morning. "Soon as we're done, we're heading home," Brian said.

"Why, uh, why don't you grab your car from Crimper's lot and I'll drive Trix home?" Anything to spend time with his special girl. No, woman.

"Good idea." Brian knew what Jim was planning; alone time with Trixie. He couldn't fault his best friend. He was going to drive directly to Manor House and his hazel-eyed beauty.

888888888

Trixie was getting ready for the biggest gamble of her nascent career. There was an underlying excitement bubbling through her veins. Bad Santa and his two little minions were having a whispered conversation at the foot of Santa's mountain.

The display artists were placing the last touches on the sparkling display behind the main jewelry counter. There it was, encased in crystal-clear glass, on a black velvet background. The Scarlet Swan, the rarest of the rare. It was a ruby-red diamond, thirty carats in all, surrounded by exquisite white, flawless diamonds.

Ed Lynch bought it when it came on the private collectors' market once his business took off and the millions were rolling in. Sharon didn't like it overly much; she was more a sapphire fan, to match her eyes, she said.

888888888

Santa Claus, the real Santa, was watching the whole sting and chortling with glee. Elmer was doing his part as the crazy elf with the tall tales, keeping Jingle Bill and Sleighbell Sandy wondering what he was going to do next. It was distracting them, and that was a good thing.

Trixie and Honey… they were everything he thought they would be, and more. Yup, smart, good little girls should get almost everything they wished for Christmas.

8888888888

Shoppers were oohing and aaahing over The Scarlet Swan. Some were shaking their heads. Christmas wasn't even here, and they were already into Valentines' Day! Santa's mountain was thinned out for once; only the stragglers and not-so-nice brats were demanding Santa bring them their gift of choice. The sign at the foot of the mountain said that Santa was leaving at 6 PM to get back to the North Pole for the long Christmas night.

At 3.30 PM, Santa and Trixie were on a break when Crimper's was plunged into darkness. It only lasted for a few minutes as the emergency generator kicked in. A few seconds later, full lighting was restored.

And The Scarlet Swan was missing, its case smashed and the display in shambles.

88888888888

John Smith, Jingle Bill, and Sleighbell Sandy were making their way out of the store through one of the Emergency Exits in the stockroom area. They heard the announcement for the shoppers to remain calm, that the lighting would be restored in a moment or two.

"Put one over on these hicks," Jingle Bill was laughing as he chucked the infrared glasses. "It went off like a dream!" Reconnoitering the store to find out where the power connected was a great idea.

The trio burst out of the steel door, still congratulating themselves on a job well done, into the gray and dreary afternoon. The sound of multiple weapons being cocked in their direction cut short their celebration.

"Put your hands over your heads and get on your knees. Don't make any sudden moves. Webster, cuff 'em." Molinson grinned.

Spider Webster took great joy in cuffing the three criminals. He fished around in the bag Sleighbell Sandy had slung crossbody and pulled out the gleaming necklace. "Now, whatever do we have here?" he snarked.

Trixie, Honey, Elmer, and Grandpa Crimper stood to one side. "Never can get the best of Schoolgirl Shamuses, Inc.!" he cackled. "Serves ya right!"

Sandy slanted a disgusted look at Trixie. "How did you figure it out?" She had to know.

"The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed you were after the cookie recipe. Honey and Diana watched you guys checking out the stockrooms for the best way to exit. Once I saw that Mr. Lynch was going to exhibit The Swan, I just knew. Besides, the Thompson family and Henry Olyfant are not exactly the poster children for good civic behavior."

"They're being rounded up as we speak," Molinson chortled evilly. "This time, the charges are going to stick."

Grandpa Crimper thanked the police and headed off into the store. "Hey, Mr. Crimper," Spider called. "You want the Swan?"

"Nah, you can give it back to Ed Lynch. Or you can give it to Honey there, and she'll get it back." Crimper continued through the door, a bit worried as to where he was going to find a replacement Santa. He had a store to run!

Spider looked doubtful. "I don't know, Honey," he began.

"It's okay, Spider. It's a fake. A good fake, but it sure isn't the real Swan."

"Huh?" John Smith, a.k.a. Fast Fingers Ian, was later identified as an associate of Blinky, Tony, and Pedro, all currently serving time in Sing-Sing, was shocked. "No way!"

"Way. The original owner of the Swan had a replica made because the insurance premiums were so high. When Mr. Lynch purchased it, he got both."

"You guys wouldn't have gotten a dime for it if you decided to fence it," Trixie grinned, satisfied.

88888888

In the meantime, Santa landed on the roof and met Grandpa Crimper in the little-used hallway. "My girls did good, Earl," Santa laughed. "I've come to take Elmer back… we need him. Still have a ton of production to meet in very little time." The elf did well, too.

Even if he did make a rude remark about Martha.

"You were right, Nick. But, I need a Santa from now until closing."

"Let me let you in on a secret," Santa confided, as he handed him a large, brown paper wrapped bundle.

88888888

"I've got to get back inside, I'm freezing in this outfit," Trixie complained as the trio was led away.

"And I need to get home to see Brian. I'll give the necklace to Di when I see her tomorrow."

Trixie threw her arms around Honey and squeezed tight. "Great work, partner!"

Honey grinned and squeezed back. "When the FBI gives up…" she giggled.

"We take over!"

88888888

"Trixie, Santa is waiting for me," Elmer said. "Thanks for all the goodies. Don't tell Mrs. Claus, but your Moms can almost outbake her!"

Trixie bent down to gaze into those lime-green eyes. "Thanks for your help, Elmer. By keeping them off-kilter, we were able to get away with substituting the fake necklace."

"I'm the best. If you ever need help…"

"Next time I need an undercover elf, you're the one!"

88888888

Grandpa Crimper met her in the hallway, rather flushed. "Come on, come on, Trixie! We have a line of kids waiting and a substitute Santa."

"But how… never mind." Christmas was the season for miracles, even small ones. She shrugged her shoulders and went back into the busy store.

She climbed Santa's mountain, smiling at the man sitting on the throne. "Tinseled Trixie, are you ready, Santa?"

"Ho, ho, ho, bring the little ones on."

She gave the man a strange look. His voice sounded rather familiar… after the third or fourth child was introduced, Trixie happened to glance up into twinkling emerald eyes. Eyes she knew as well as, or even better than her own.

 _Jim._

Oh, _gleeps._

The last couple of hours whizzed by, and soon the sign went up that Santa was going to depart. When the last child was helped down from Santa's knee, Trixie wondered. _Can I do it? Do I have the nerve?_

Well, it _was_ the season for miracles.

Taking a deep breath, her blue eyes merry and mischievous, she asked a favor of Old Saint Nick. "I'd like to tell you what I want for Christmas, if that's okay."

Have his Trixie sit on his lap? In her sexy elf costume? Jim wouldn't miss that treat for the world. From the moment Grandpa Crimper grabbed him in the store and asked for his help, Jim was building up to this moment. He patted his knee. "Ho, ho, ho, sit right down here and tell me what your heart desires."

Trixie climbed on his knee, wriggling a little to get comfortable, and making Jim consider that maybe this wasn't such a good idea in public. "I need to whisper in your ear, is that okay?"

Jim gulped and nodded. As she leaned in towards him, his arms went around her.

Her lips were almost touching his ear as she brushed the wig aside. In a little, off-key voice, her breath warm on his ear, she sang her deepest secret and held her breath.

 _I just want you for my own,_

 _More than you will ever know._

 _Make my dream come true._

 _Jim, all I want for Christmas is you. *_

Little Robert Dodge was tugging on his mother's coat. "But, Mommy! I really did see it! Honest! Trixie was sitting on Santa's lap and was kissing Santa Claus for a long, long time, and then he kissed her again! And there was no mistletoe in sight!"

Far off in the heavens, a sleigh streaked its way home, and a faint boom of familiar laughter was heard.

 _Merry Christmas to all and to Trixie and Jim, a good night!_

*Lyrics from All I Want for Christmas is You used respectfully and without permission, but hey, I ain't makin' no money, either!


End file.
